


Scherzo in G

by WhatTheFAmIDoingHere



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheFAmIDoingHere/pseuds/WhatTheFAmIDoingHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music school AU!<br/>Killua Zoldyck is at the Netero Academy of Music for one reason and one reason only: to become a great classical pianist like his parents and brothers.<br/>That is, until he runs into a plucky jazz musician by the name of Gon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scherzo in G

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me while driving and I just had to write it down for my own sanity. This is super rough and I'm not sure it will continue, but comments are very appreciated!

 

            Killua is in his happy place.

            Slender pale fingers dance over ebony and ivory keys, coaxing out a melody that is simultaneously energizing and yet incredibly soothing.  Killua closes his eyes and breathes deeply as muscle memory takes over, moving his hands across the keys as if on their own accord.  The familiar chords wash over him, filling him with a sense of peace.  A tiny smile quirks at the edges of his lips as he nears his favorite part of the piece; a mighty crescen

            “Stop.”

            A sharp voice yanks the young pianist out of his reverie, and reality crashes upon him like a bucket of cold water.  Killua turns to scowl at its source--a tall, lean young man surveying him with dark, blank eyes.

            Frustration begins to bubble in the pit of Killua’s stomach.  This was the fourth time today that he’d been interrupted at his favorite part.  “What the hell did I do that time?!”

            The young man flips a lock of ink black hair over his shoulder and looks his brother in the eye.  “You always drop that last minor chord way too early, Kil.  It sounds horrendously rushed.”

            Killua glares straight back into dead eyes.  “I can’t hold it _forever_ ; it’ll interfere with the next--”

            “Just run it one more time.  I’ll stop you if need be.”  Illumi replies, folding his hands in his lap.

            Killua turns his scowl back towards the piano keys.  As if it wasn’t enough having his brother stalk him all over school, he has to be his tutor, too.  The fiery young boy had always found his family infuriating--perhaps as a product of growing up in isolation with them--and can never seem to find peace from his brothers, particularly this one.  

Despite his frustration, he steadies his hands and gently positions them over the keys.  He takes a few deep breaths, as he always does, to calm his mind.  Soon enough, reality washes away, leaving only music in his head and the feeling of smooth keys on his fingertips.  

A delicate chord dances through the room, and Killua is in his happy place once more.

The tension from moments ago seems to melt away as the familiar melody returns to his senses again.  The boy’s feet and hands move in rhythm, causing his whole body to sway gently in time to the music.  Soon enough, everything is music, and nothing hurts.  

Meanwhile, somewhere in the logical part of his mind, a tiny voice tells him that he’s nearing a trouble spot.  He hits the final chord of the measure, hand and foot pressing down in unison.  He lets the note linger for a bit longer than usual, and hearing no objection from his brother, continues.  

The sound is almost tangible as the melody rises in both pitch and volume.  The smile returns to Killua’s face; he relishes the feeling of a building crescendo.  He feels it lighting up his fingertips, and swelling like a balloon in his chest, filling him with some kind of childish joy. His hands jump gracefully across the keys, navigating octaves and

“Kil,” the sharp voice returns, slashing through his bubble of peace.

Killua rounds on his brother, frustration boiling over.  “Fucking _gods_ , Illumi, what the hell is it now?!”

Illumi’s eyes widen slightly at the outburst.  “My, my, Kil.  Save the anger for the playground.  Emotion like that has no place in classical music.”

He receives only a low groan from the younger boy, sounding more like a canine growl than human speech.  

“Are we done with our little tantrum?”  Illumi says in what is probably the most infuriating voice he could muster.  

The only response is silence and angry blue eyes.

“Good.”  Illumi clears his throat and leans forward to gesture at the sheet of music on the piano in front of them.  “Right here.  Now, tell me if my eyes deceive me, but I believe that it says _mezzo forte_ here, and what I’m hearing is definitely more _forte._ ”  

Killua turns his icy glare to the sheet of music, pretending to silently read over the spot Illumi pointed out.  

Illumi watches his brother’s fake interest for a moment before abruptly snatching the pages off the stand.  “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” he intones in that coldly indifferent voice, “you’re clearly in too much of a... _state_...to make any improvements.”

The noise that Killua produces in response is part angry huff, part sigh of relief.  Without a word, he slides off his end of the bench and grabs his bag.  

“Now for next time, I want you to practice measures five through sixteen,” Illumi drones on as his brother makes his way to the practice room door, “and I’ll _know_ if you didn’t practice, so don’t try to--” his sentence ends with an irritated sigh.  Killua is already gone.

 

Killua shrugs on his backpack and walks as quickly as possible down the practice hallway before breaking into a run at the next intersection.  If he ever gets a chance to ditch Illumi and get some alone time, he takes it and runs with it--quite literally.

The boy speeds through the winding corridors, making sure to take as many random turns as possible to keep his brother from catching up to him too fast.  By the time he’s sure he’s safe, he sighs deeply and leans against the wall of the empty hall he ended up in.  

Peace from the Zoldyck family was rare, but greatly appreciated.

Yes, Killua’s family had always infuriated him.  For most of his young life, he had grown up without any playmates other than his four siblings and various butlers, which had caused nothing but tension and frustration for Killua.  His only comfort as a child was the thought that someday, he would turn twelve and leave his home for good.  Twelve was the age at which every young Zoldyck was enrolled in the Netero Academy of Music, (affectionately referred to as ‘nam by some of its students,) a boarding school for aspiring young musicians.  Killua had spent his childhood dreaming of the day he would leave home and make a fresh start at the Academy, surrounded by new faces, new music and new opportunities.

He didn’t expect it to be exactly like the place he left.

While Killua does enjoy a little freedom at Netero, he is constantly plagued by his eldest brother, who is always egging him to quit relaxing and keep practicing.  Sometimes Killua could even hear his brother’s dreadful voice in his head, telling him that “Bach didn’t become great by watching sitcom reruns,” and “would Beethoven give up after just three hours?” The memories alone sometimes make him physically shudder.

When he isn’t being hounded by his flesh-and-blood brother, Killua is haunted by the ghosts of his parents’ reputation everywhere he goes.  He can’t have one lousy conversation without someone asking him when his father will start touring again, or if his mother is working on a new piece.  Having world famous musicians for parents was tough enough when he lived with them, but the problems seem to persist even while he is far from home.  Because of this, along with his natural tendency towards introversion, Killua prefers to be left alone.

In the stuffy silence of the hallway, Killua’s sensitive ears prick when he hears footsteps making their way down the hall.  It looks like his alone time would be cut short today.  He straightens up, preparing to face his brother for another round of criticisms.

Luckily, though, he is spared today.  The figure that rounds the corner at the end of the hall is much shorter and much less intimidating than Illumi.  Killua slouches against the wall again, relieved, but silently hopes that whoever it is will walk right past him and leave him in peace.

“Yo, Killua!”

Well, you can’t have all the luck.

Killua attempts a friendly smile and looks up to greet the approaching boy with what little energy he has left after his hellish lesson.  “Hey, Zushi.  How was practice?”

The shorter boy shrugs, clacking two drumsticks together absentmindedly.  “The usual.  The flutes were a mess as always, but Maestro is a saint.  He’s so patient with them.  Honestly I would have kicked them all out at this point…”

Killua simply nods along with Zushi’s words, lost in his own thoughts again as the little drummer babbles on about the new horn section in his band.  

“...so I’m gonna get some lunch.  Jazz always makes me hungry.”  Zushi smiles and claps him on the shoulder.  “Wanna join me?”

Killua shrugs his hand away.  “Nah.  Thanks though.”  Zushi is a good friend, but after practice, all Killua wants is silence.

“Suit yourself.” The shorter boy turns to leave.  “See ya!”

“Later,” Killua waves him off, happy to be at peace again.

“Oh, wait,” Zushi turns back for a moment, “I saw your brother a minute ago.  He said he was looking for you.”

Killua groans and lets his head drop back against the wall behind him.  “Yeah, I know.”

It’s going to be a long semester.

 


End file.
